The Winged Man's vow (part two of Secrets and Lies
by smaugholmeswatson
Summary: With the Hunters gone life goes back to normal for John and Sherlock but it isn't long before more than just winged humans appear from the shadowed corners of London's darkest secrets, secrets that will prove to be very close to home. Contains violence, wing-lock and shape-shifting. Probably best if you read 'The Winged Man's Burden' first.


'I will never let anything happen to you John.' I grit my teeth. 'Talk about famous last words' I think. Once more I scan the note I'd found flapping feebly under the door knocker when I arrived home. Of course the words haven't changed. The note is short and reads, "We have John Watson, meet us on top of the houses of Parliament at midnight or he dies." My hand contracts, crushing the note, and I hurl it against the wall with a cry of anger. All I had wanted to keep John safe from my world but that had all gone rapidly downhill when he had revealed he was a winged human like me. I groan. Damn this is all my fault, if only I had been here when he had been kidnapped I might have been able to do something. If he gets hurt it will be all my fault. The next moment anger floods through me. If John gets hurt I will kill the people responsible.

The clock behind me chimes eleven; only an hour to go until I have to face the newest group wishing to take me on. For a moment I consider taking Lestrade with me as official police back up but since I have no idea what the people I am going to meet are like it is probably best if I leave him out of it. Too many people have died already trying to protect me. Confused thoughts churning in my head I pace around the living room, neatly avoiding the piles of books leaving precariously which currently take up most of the available floor space. A slight smile twitches up the corner of my mouth at the memory of John stomping around yelling at me to put them away on the shelves. John... my face falls again.

I know for a fact that the kidnappers can not be Hunters because every last remaining one has been rounded up and put in prison which means (much as I dislike to admit it because normally I am always right) these people are a completely new threat I haven't yet come across. I have to admit that the thought does unnerve me slightly and I have to shake my head to clear it of all the negative thoughts that have somehow crept in when I wasn't looking. If I continue to worry like this I will be unable to come up with a decent plan for helping John and myself against whoever has a grudge against me this week. I glance at the clock and am shocked to see that almost twenty minutes has passed since it chimed the hour. I curse quietly under my breath. I need to get going if I am to make it to the meeting place for midnight. Going over to the window I push it open and squeeze awkwardly out because it is not easy to fit through tight gaps when you have wings. Outside I balance on the window sill and close my eyes, remembering the time last week when John and I had been forced to flee 221B to escape my brother and the Hunters under his command. I exhale sharply at the sudden pain which briefly overwhelms me (obviously I am not yet over Mycroft's death) and open my eyes. Beneath me London is a blur of brilliant light which pulses with life despite the lateness of the hour. Above the light the sky is pitch black which is good because it means no curious passer by will be able to spot me or follow me to where I am going.

Carefully I stretch out my wings to their full extent, marveling at how the pure white feathers glow eerily in the orange light of the street lamps, before stepping forward into empty air. Instinctively my wings beat several times to keep me airborne and I rise up, enjoying the familiar feeling of weightlessness that I experience every time I first life off. Once I am high enough for London to be spread out beneath me like a living map I hover long enough to gain my bearings. Over to my right I see the glowing outline of the Houses of Parliament framed against the cold blackness of the surrounding sky and river. I bank and head towards it, uncomfortably aware of Big Ben showing the time to be ten to twelve. Even if I fly flat out I am only just going to make it. I beat my wings harder, feeling the strain in my shoulders, and I soon find myself soaring out over the waves of the river Thames. Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament rise before me and I shoot upward, angling towards the roof of the parliament buildings beside it. I land lightly and tuck my wings against my back.

As soon as I touch down I look around me for traps or ambushes but am unable to spot anything obvious. Hopefully that means that the kidnappers will face me themselves. There is no sign of John either. Behind me Big Ben chimes out the first strike of twelve. As the bongs die away I hear a faint scuffling noise behind me and I tense, slowly turning to face whoever is there. Walking towards me are three men with leathery red wings, reminiscent of a dragon, curled over their shoulders with one dragging John behind him with a rope around his neck. My fists clench.

John looks scruffy and has a split lip and an impressive black eye. A quiet snarl escapes me and it takes all the self control I possess not to attack them. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself. These men are going to pay for their mistreatment of John. The three of them stop about a meter away from me and the one holding the rope gives it a sharp tug that forces John to his knees. One of them, probably the leader judging by the way the other two back away slightly as though they are afraid to get too close to him, steps froward. He grins, one side of his mouth twitching beneath a messy scar running from the corner of his left eye to his throat, at me and I shiver runs down my spine at the coldness in his expression.

"Well, well if it isn't Mr Holmes. So nice of you to agree to meet me." He drawls in a gravelly voice. The two men behind him snicker quietly to themselves.

I glance at John but he still shows no sign of having noticed I am there. God knows what these men have done to him to cause him to be like this. Whatever it was it must have been bad. "What do you want? It had better be good for a midnight meeting and a kidnapping." I say, glaring at the man before him. He doesn't seem particularly phased and smiles at me in response. My wings hang loosely down behind me in case I need to make a quick getaway. "Who are you?"

The man's smile grows wide, revealing teeth with sharp points that give him an reptilian quality. "My name is Sebastian Moran, second in command to the Master of the city who wishes to make a proposal to you. He sent me to tell you of his offer and to take back word of your acceptance." He says, his eyes glinting orange.

I let out a quiet snort, unimpressed. "He's rather confident. What happens if I say no?"

Moran gestures with his hand. The man holding the end of the rope nods in acknowledgment of the order and gives it a harsh tug. John gasps and clutches at his neck in panic as his air is cut off. "I can be very persuasive when I want to be Mr Holmes. Besides it would such a shame if I was forced to hurt John Watson."

Finally John looks up at me with a pleading look on his face and I give him what I hope is an reassuring smile in return. It probably looks more like a grimace but remaining calm in situations like this is difficult. "And what is this proposal that the Master is so eager for me to agree to?" I inquire, all the while trying to figure out a way to get John and I out of this alive.

"It's very simple." Moran says with a faint hiss. His tongue flicks out and I am not surprised to see that it is forked. "All the Master wants is for you to join him, to serve him by using your remarkable talents for solving crime to commit it. With you beside him he would be unstoppable. Think of it Mr Holmes- the power you would have at your fingertips." Moran's voice is persuasive as he looks at me with his head to one side.

What is being offered is extremely tempting but I can never accept it. Mycroft had died in order to keep me safe and if I joined forces with the criminal mastermind of London I will be making everything he did worthless. I breathe in deeply, pretending to consider the offer and glance at John whose eyes are wide and fixed on me. John will never forgive me if I agree. With a sigh I turn to face Moran. "No, I do not accept the offer. Tell the Master that Sherlock Holmes will not be corrupted so easily.

Moran hisses angrily and flexes his hands which are suddenly beginning to look rather claw like. "Are you absolutely sure Mr Holmes? This will be your only chance, the Master doesn't repeat such generous offers." He takes another step forward until he is inches away from me.

I look him squarely in the eye, managing not to flinch at the red glint I see there. Moran and his companions are not winged humans, they are much too... animal for that. "My mind is made up. I will not work with the Master of the city." I say with barely a shake in my voice, (a small victory but a victory none the less).

Moran shrugs, his leathery wings unfurling slightly. "Very well My Holmes I had hoped to keep this civilized but you have left me with no other choice." He says, turning to address the men behind him. "Arthur, Bart, kill John Watson."

"NO!" I cry but I am already much too late because a terrifying transformation is rippling through the two men. It is rather unpleasant to watch because it appears as though their bodies are tearing apart with bones and muscles dislocating and realigning with wet popping and cracking sounds. One of the men lets out a scream of pain that becomes a roar as sharp fangs force their way through his new elongated jaws. All the while their bodies are re-shaping themselves their skin has been melting away. I swallow and choke back a strong feeling of revulsion but instead of exposed bones hard red scales are appearing all over their bodies. There is a final wet crack while horns burst through the top of their heads before, finally, the transformation is complete and a five foot high dragon with two heads stands before me. I gape at them. Well I hadn't been expecting that. I look at Moran for an explanation but he shrugs, turning away. Bart and Arthur snarl and exhale twin torrents of flame that are so intense I am forced to take a step back before rounding on John, both of their eyes alight with cruelty.

"JOHN!" I shout. Oh god, this is all my fault. I fell to my knees and curse my helplessness because, come on what am I supposed to do against a bloody dragon? If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't be able to believe the existence of the creature before me. There have been rumors of shape-shifters but I had never thought the story could actually be true.

Almost with no effort at all the dragon reaches down and entangles its claws in John's hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. It licks its lips as though savoring the moment before finally, lightning fast, the dragon sinks its fangs into John's shoulder. John cries out and I wince, able to hear bones crunching. Throwing caution to the wind I run forward with a yell of rage. The dragon doesn't even look at me. One moment I am running towards it and the next I am flying backward after a side swipe from its tail. I land badly and hear a crack as my arm twists unnaturally beneath me. Instantly I feel pain flare through my shoulder and have to grit my teeth to prevent myself from crying out in pain. I sit still for a moment and wait for the arm to begin to heal. 'Thank god for the unique abilities gifted to us winged humans' I think as I struggle back to my feet and turn once more to face the dragon.

Since my brief (and unplanned) flight across the roof John's situation has grown worse with the dragon now tearing chunks of flesh out of his chest with its claws, leaving gaping bloody holes and exposed ribs. Already I can see the wounds are beginning to knit back together but as quickly as they are the dragon is making new ones until John is kneeling in a small lake of his own blood. I remain rooted to the spot, breathing deeply and desperately trying to think of a solution. Nothing comes and I hang my head with a quiet groan. Taking my eye off the dragon wasn't my greatest of ideas. I hear John cry out my name, my head jerking up in response. The dragon towers above me, its cruel eyes looking down at me, as it rests the point of a single claw against my chest and gently begins to push. Because of the dragon's enormous strength it is easy for it to stab the claw through my skin and into the bone beneath. Almost immediately blood begins to pump from the wound. A grin spreads over the dragon's face and it pushes a little harder. It is now that the pain hits me in a white hot wave that forces me to my knees and causes black spots to dance in my vision. My breathing becomes ragged and I briefly flash back to the torture I had endured in the hands of the Scientist.

The next moment the claw is gone and I slump to my knees, trying to cry out in pain while coughing blood. Panic floods through me. Drowning in my own blood is not how I envisioned dying. The breathlessness continues for a few more minutes but then, slowly, my vision clears a little and breathing becomes easier as my torn windpipe knits itself back together. Weakly I look up and am surprised by what I see. The dragon is cowering down with its claws curled protectively over its heads while Moran lays into it.

"What the hell were you thinking? I told you to kill John Watson not Sherlock! We still need the detective alive you stupid great reptile." Moran screams, fire spitting from his nostrils.

Hesitantly, not wanting to draw attention to myself and also because being stabbed really, really hurts, I crawl across to John who stirs and gives me a weak smile. "Are you okay?" I ask somewhat pointlessly. I am well able to see the open wounds covering his body. From how every breath he takes is shallow I can tell John is in a great deal of pain. Gently I lay a hand on his forehead, smearing it with my blood. "It'll be okay."

John's reply is drowned out by a loud howl. I notice the dragon stiffen and scan the surrounding rooftops with fear in its eyes before bolting upwards with frantic wing beats. Moran follows close behind and glances over his shoulder in order to deliver a final warning. "This isn't over Mr Holmes. My Master will have you be his side."

The howl comes again, this time from directly behind us and John's eyes widen in fear. Despite the pain I somehow manage to spread wings over us like a shield and half rise, preparing myself to fight should the need arise. I feel hot breath on the back of my neck. Slowly I begin to turn to face the creature behind me but am knocked sprawling when a heavy weight lands on my chest. I scream in pain when the movement jolts my already injured chest and it is all I can do to hold back the yellowing fangs snapping inches from my throat.

It takes almost all the strength I have to hold the creature at bay and even then I am barely winning against it. From what I can tell as I grapple with it the creature is humunoid in shape and is covered with thick, soft fur. Not that I'm really focusing much on its appearence right at this moment. From nearby I hear John cry out in fear followed by a fierce growl. Damn, of course there had to be more of the things. Desperate to get to John to check if he is alright I fight harder against the creature pinning me to the ground but my efforts soon prove futile. With my wings trapped beneath me I am effectivly just as helpless as any human.

"John!" I yell, managing to push the creature away enough to catch a glimpse of his terrified face as he is surrounded by more of the creatures on all sides.

The creature holding me down stops and gazes down at me with brown eyes which contain an unmistakable spark of humanity. I gasp when it stands up on its hind legs, revealing it to be a human shaped wolf, grateful for the absence of its crushing weight. The creature offers me a clawed hand and after a moments deliberation I take it and allow myself to be pulled to my feet. I brush myself down, dismayed at the dirt and grime streaking my coat. "You know you really need to look before you just go charging in Lestrade." I say with a smile.

Behind me I hear John's sharp intake of breath. "Hang on, what?" He stutters, sounding confused. I am not surprised he is finding it difficult to take it. It was rather a shock for me when I first discovered Lestrade's secret and the revelation that winged humans aren't the only oddities and freaks out there. "I don't understand."

Lestrade's lupine features crease into a smile, (well technically a snarl because smiling is difficult for wolves). "Hello John. I can imagine this has come as a slight shock. Well I suppose the cat is out of the bag now." He pauses for a moment, a frown on his face, and pricks his ears up to listen to the noises of the night. Obviously what he hears isn't overly alarming because he turns back to John and continues talking. "As you can see John I am a were-wolf."

John looks rather faint. "Oh." He says in a small voice. "Great. So now there are winged humans, were-wolves and huge, great bloody dragons roaming the streets of London. Tell me are there any other surprises I should be aware of?" He asks, his voice rising to the point of being hysterical.

Lestrade shrugs and briefly glances over in my direction with an apologetic smile. "No that's about it... well about from the sea serpent that lives in the Thames but he's rather shy and doesn't really show his face very much." He says calmly before an alarmed expression settles over his face. "Hang on, did you say something about a dragon?"

As it was plain that the night was rapidly becoming too much for even an ex-soldier to cope with I decided to step in and tell Lestrade about the shape-shifter we had met. Throughout the retelling he remains silent, only occasionally making a small noise when I mention the Master of the city. Once I have finished he taps a claw against his chin as he considered what I have just told him. "This is bad." He says. "This is really bad. The Master of the city hasn't been heard of for months and I though that the dragon shape-shifters were pratically extinct."

I had thought the same but after the meeting tonight I was revising everything I knew about the dragon shape-shifters. "I know. You don't need to tell me how bad this whole thing is." I say in answer, running a hand through my hair. I wince when the movement jolts the stab wound that is still knitting itself back together.

Lestrade's furry brows furrow in concern. "Are you okay? I noticed the blood but wasn't sure it was yours or John's."

Work in progress


End file.
